


R&R

by jensennjared



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Gen, General Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4538628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensennjared/pseuds/jensennjared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean decide to go on holiday to mend the bond between them. Set after the S10 finale. <br/>Written for the Winchester Bros Fic Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R&R

“I can’t remember the last time I saw the beach.” Dean says, cradling his coffee cup as he eases himself into a seat at the kitchen table. His back twinges, a painful reminder of the hunt they finished last night. 

“I don’t know, man.” Sam looks off into the distance, searching his memory for the coastline. “Uh, probably for that changeling gig in Delaware.” Dean nods; it was a pretty easy case, relatively open and shut for them, hardly memorable. 

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” Dean says, before receiving a small, sarcastic smile from Sam. “Maybe we should pack up and spend a few days somewhere. Where do you wanna go?” 

“You’re serious?” Sam stands up. The abrupt screech of his chair echoes around the room. 

“What? You don’t think we deserve a little R&R?” 

“No - I mean, yeah, of course but,” Sam sighs, having difficulty finding the right words, “it’s not over, Dean. Yeah, the Mark’s gone and, believe me, I’m glad but Rowena - she’s still out there somewhere with the book. And this - this darkness…” Sam purses his lips, before running his hand through his hair. “We just need to be prepared, okay?”

“I know that, but we haven’t heard anything. It’s been weeks now, and not so much as a - a blip in the demon department. All we got was some lightshow and as far as we know, that’s it. I’d call that a win, Sam. We need to get while the going’s good.” Dean finishes his coffee in a few gulps, and then stands, mirroring his brother. 

“I get that, I do, but—”

“Sam, the last year, hell, our lives have been insane. All I’m asking is for a couple days in the sunshine state, kicking back with a couple cold ones. No demons, no ghosts, no friggin’ witches - just you and me, like old times.” Dean tilts his head towards Sam, emphasising his point with the quick downward turn of his lips. “Don’t you think we’re owed that much?” 

Sam considers; his jaw tensing as he grinds his teeth together in concentration. “Fine, okay, but if we hear any sign of trouble—”

“Yeah, yeah, we hightail it back here and kick some darkness ass.” Dean smiles, savouring his triumph. He has won his brother over and the victory tastes sweet. He turns on his heel, ready to head to his room and start packing. Then he stops and turns around to face Sam, his expression suddenly concerned. “Dude, I need to buy board shorts.” Sam smiles, amused at how seriously Dean is taking the idea of a vacation. 

“I’m sure I’ve got a pair or two you can borrow.” Sam says, mentally scanning his wardrobe. 

“Oh, okay, great.” Dean starts to turn again. “You better not have any of those European speedo things either. That’s all kinds of gross I don’t need to see.” 

They stuff their duffle bags with clothes and sandals, quickly realising that their summer wardrobe leaves something to be desired. It feels strange, suiting up for something that won’t end in a kill. 

The next day, they fold into the impala, and head off. Summer has found them, carrying promises of respite and relaxation on the breeze. The days are long and warm; they smell of freshly cut grass, the sweet tang of barbecue sauce and rock salt from the ocean. The season suggests that the hard times are over. Freedom has begun. They need some time. They need to discover themselves again; to remember what it is like to say ‘brother’ in affection, and not as a warning. They need to reclaim their bond, and promise that never again will they come that close to the brink of darkness. 

Dean keeps the windows rolled all the way down, and he breaks out his best tape mix. A smile is fixed on his face, and Sam can tell the tension had eased. Sam’s spent so long being concerned, stumbling around in the darkness, trying to find a way to fix his brother, to scrub the stain of death and destruction from Dean’s skin. It’s not easy to shift gear. He wonders if he’s forgotten how to have a good time. Usually, they live day to day, hoping that by sundown they’ll still be alive and well. Enjoyment has nothing to do with it. It’s odd to be asked to savour the day. 

Dean flicks the cap off a beer, and he hears his brother tsk. “What?” He rolls his eyes. 

“Starting the party a little early, don’t ya think?” Sam remains the voice of reason — making sure his brother stays on the right side of the law. “Is it too much to ask for you to wait until we’re stationary?” 

“Fine, safety first.” Dean places the bottle into the cupholder. He glances over at his brother, and finds Sam wearing a particularly sour face. Dean sighs, trying to muster enough enthusiasm to share between them, but he’s starting to run on empty. “Do you think it’d, y’know, kill you to act like you’re excited for this? Come on man, we need a break from all this.” 

“All this? All this is our life, Dean.” Sam sighs, turning to look out of the window. “You can’t expect me to be okay just because you are.”

“I don’t expect you to be okay.” Dean taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “I just - I need some time. I’m trying so friggin’ hard to feel normal. The Mark’s gone, and I’m, essentially, me again. I just wanna feel that way too, y’know.” 

Sam nods, keeping his attention fixed on the horizon. He’s at a loss for words. It doesn’t sit right with him, not yet, but he’s gonna try his damnedest to get there. He owes Dean. They could both do with a little fun, and he hopes that the vacation will be able to provide some kind of distraction.

It’s a two day drive to Florida. They swap shifts every so often, sharing the driving duty and sleeping whenever possible. They arrive after dusk, and Dean books them into a motel near the beach. It’s rundown but it’ll do. Claiming a bed each, they bunk down for the night, finally giving in to the deep temptation of sleep. Their bodies sink into the mattresses; they stretch out their muscles and sigh. Sleep finds them quickly; the slow waves of the ocean providing its organic soundtrack. They both dream of nothing in particular. It’s nice not to be dogged by nightmares. 

They wake early the next day, and traipse down to the beach. Dean lights one of those disposable barbecues and spends an hour or so cooking burgers. They douse them in hot sauce and fried onions, and eat them watching the horizon. Finally, Sam feels as if he can breathe again. His lungs fill with salty, fresh air. It’s cleansing and he starts to realise that Dean was right. There’s no point in holding on to the past; they need to leave their worries at the roadside, and move on. 

He falls asleep, in the midday sun, with a full belly and a clear mind. Dean lets him sleep, the sounds of his brother’s snores adding to the ambiance. 

Dean sits quietly, shifting sand between his fingers and watching the waves run to and from the shore, until the temptation becomes too much. He rummages through the beach bag, before grabbing the sun lotion. He doesn’t know if it’ll work, but he has to try. Pouring the lotion out on to his fingers, he draws the shape in with strong lines, pressing his lips together to avoid laughing. It doesn’t occur to him that he’s being childish, and even if it did, he doesn’t care. Finally having finished, he sits back in his chair and listens to his walkman, waiting for the moment when his handiwork will be revealed. 

Sam rouses a couple hours later. His tan has darkened and he’s none the wiser. He takes a dip in the sea, and eventually showers, readying himself for a night out with his brother. It isn’t until he glances in the mirror, whilst towelling himself off, that he notices it. There, seared into the flesh of his right shoulder blade, is the pale outline of a penis. It’s certainly one strange tan line. Sam’s eyebrows knit together. “Dean!” Wrapping the towel around his waist, he storms out of the bathroom in search of his older brother. He finds Dean sitting at the kitchen table, devouring a taco. “Dean, seriously?” Sam turns, flashing his sun cured tattoo. 

“Turned out pretty good, didn’t it?” Dean beams, before swallowing a mouthful of his meal. 

“Dude, not cool!” Sam grimaces, throwing his arms out wide. 

“Ah, it’ll fade eventually. In the meantime, you may wanna avoid going shirtless at the beach.” 

“I can’t believe you.” Sam rubs his face with his hands. He starts to turn on his heel, ready to head back to the bathroom. 

“Uh, Sam, wait a sec,” Dean calls, and Sam turns, “you got a little dick on you right here.” Dean gestures to his own shoulder blade and grins broadly, pleased with his prank. 

“Oh, you wanna do this? Okay, big brother, it’s on.” A wide smile spreads across Sam’s face, and he nods vigorously, his mind racing to conjure up all sort of wicked pranks to pull. He heads back to the bathroom, muttering to himself. 

Dean smiles into his taco. Normality is not far off.


End file.
